


Ablaze

by katikat



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-03-10 17:30:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13506381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katikat/pseuds/katikat
Summary: This time, Mac’s house does blow up. With Mac inside. Jack’s POV. (Unbeta'd)





	Ablaze

It’s 4am and the sky’s already lightening with dawn when Jack’s cellphone starts ringing, the sound shrill and unwelcoming in the otherwise silent apartment.

And Jack’s pissed. It’s been only minutes since he fell into bed, head first, and buried his face in his pillows, exhausted, drained, dead on his feet, having just returned from a mission with the rest of the team. All he wants is a good eight hours of sleep, uninterrupted. And Matty promised him that.  _Dammit_!

Groaning, he grabs for the ringing, wildly vibrating cellphone blindly and picks up. “ _What_?!” he snaps without checking the caller ID.

“Jack!” Bozer.  _For cryin’ out loud_!

“No, Bozer,  _no_ ,” Jack tells him. “Whatever it is, it can wait till morning. Or afternoon. Or…  _evening_!”

But Bozer’s not listening and the sheer panic in his voice slowly penetrates the fog blanketing Jack’s mind. He lifts himself up on his elbows.

“Jack! It’s  _gone_. The house’s  _gone_!” Bozer blurts out and he’s almost crying into the phone. “There was an explosion. It destroyed the house, Jack.  _Everything_!”

Now Jack’s wide awake and sitting up quickly, throwing his legs off the bed and scrambling up. “And Mac? Where’s  _Mac_ , Bozer?”

There’s a soft sound, a sob. “He was inside, Jack. His Jeep’s here, he returned home first, I had to… I got held up and he came back first. It was all gone when I arrived. Jack, there’s fire everywhere…  _Mac_ …”

“Bozer, did you call 9-1-1? Are they on their way?” Jack asks, putting his phone on speaker, and starts pulling on yesterday’s clothes.

“Y-yeah, they’re coming, right now, they’re here,” Bozer replies and now Jack can hear the sirens wailing in the background, getting closer and closer by the second.

“Alright, Boze. I’ll hang up now, I’m coming,” Jack assures him. “Call Matty and Riley and stay put. I’ll be right there, you hear me?”

“Yes,” Bozer breathes out. “I’ll do that.”

“Good boy,” Jack says. And then he hangs up, grabbing his keys and rushing out of the apartment. He doesn’t even remember to lock up.

* * *

The ride to Mac’s house becomes a blur of street lamps, dark houses and a litany of  _no-no-no-no-no_. Because only an hour ago, Jack left Mac at the airport, watched him drive off in his red Jeep before heading home himself. And Mac was alright.  _Everything_ was  _alright_. So, there can’t be anything wrong now. There just can’t be.

But there can, Jack knows. He knows very well how quickly things can go to hell in their line of work. And even though their homes should be safe havens, Mac’s house’s proven not to be several times in the past already. And now, they were gone for almost a week, traipsing across the Mongolian desert. One of Mac’s enemies could’ve easily…

Jack slams on the brakes and just stares, heart in his throat. He just turned into Mac’s street, usually a pretty quiet, upscale neighborhood. But now, it’s full of fire trucks and cop cars, flashing lights and flickering fire. Where Mac’s house used to stand.  _Used to_. Because there’s nothing left of it, Bozer was right, barely half a wall in the back and that’s it.  _Dear God…_

Pulling his car to the side - even in his panic Jack realizes that blocking the way for emergency vehicles won’t help Mac - he gets out and starts first jogging, then sprinting towards the burning ruin of his friend’s home. Some cop tries to stop him but Jack pushes past him hard and keeps on running.

“Jack! Jack, over here!”

He looks around and then he spots him, Bozer, standing on the curb, smudged with soot and looking terrible,  _devastated_. Jack heads in his direction.

“You okay?” Jack asks, looking Bozer up and down. His clothes scorched, his eyes reddened.

Bozer rubs his nose with the back of his hand. “I tried to get in, find Mac, but I couldn’t, Jack. I tried, you have to believe me, I  _tried_ , Jack…” he tells Jack in a desperate voice.

“I believe you, I  _believe_ you!” Jack tries to soothe him, squeezing his shoulder. “And you didn’t see him?”

Bozer just shakes his head.

“Did you tell the firemen that there was someone inside?” Jack asks as he turns towards the house and watches men in heavy gear pour water into the blazing fire that’s slowly, very slowly going out.

“I did. They got inside and looked around for him but they couldn’t find him either,”  Bozer replies hoarsely.

“Then maybe he wasn’t there,” Jack suggests, daring to hope.

But Bozer shakes his head. “He was, Jack. His car’s here and he told me would go straight to bed.”

“Maybe… maybe someone  _took_ him. Maybe they just wanted us to think he was inside,” Jack says and what a strange thing, to pray your partner was kidnapped, taken by some unknown party, when you see  _that_ as the better alternative to…

“Jack!”

Jack and Bozer turn around to see Riley running towards them - and Matty in the background, talking to one of the firemen, their captain. They must’ve driven like mad to get here so quickly.

Riley’s steps falter and her eyes turn wide as she truly registers the devastating sight. The firemen are still pouring gallons and gallons of water into the ruin and it’s obvious even to the untrained eye that they have the fire under control, that it’s just a matter of time before they extinguish it altogether. But it still won’t be soon enough for Mac if he was inside when the bomb went off.

“Riley, can you track Mac’s phone?” Jack asks. “Maybe-maybe Mac wasn’t in there. His car’s here, sure, but maybe… for some reason… just  _maybe_ …” He needs to believe it. He has to. He can’t bring himself to even think of Mac dying in that blazing inferno.  _Impossible_.

She stares at the house a moment longer, then she looks at Jack. “Y-yeah, yes. I can do that,” she replies, pulling her trusty laptop out of the bag that she carries with her everywhere.

While Riley’s typing away on her keyboard and Jack and Bozer stare helplessly at the blackened, smoking ruin of Mac’s house, Matty walks up to them. She’s looking grim.

“I spoke to the captain,” she tells them. “A quick search of the house didn’t turn up anything. They didn’t find Mac, alive or–” She pauses. “Or his body. And a search of the nearest surroundings didn’t turn up anything either. Either Mac’s body’s buried under the rubble or he wasn’t there.”

Riley’s typing falters and she whispers, not looking at any one of them, “His phone’s still working, somehow. And it’s inside…”

Nobody says anything after that. They just stand there and stare as the firemen finally put out the last of the fire and start digging through the ruin, searching for their friend’s body. Because that’s what they’re going to find, there’s no doubt of that anymore…

But they don’t. The firemen don’t find  _anything at all_. No bodies, no survivors,  _nothing_ …

Jack turns to Riley. “Are you sure his phone’s still in the house?”

She turns her laptop so that he can see the screen. The dot marking Mac’s phone is blinking clearly and brightly in their exact location. “I’m sure, Jack.”

“Maybe someone did take him and they just left his phone behind,” Bozer points out, obviously warming up to that idea. 

“But how can his phone still be on?” Matty asks, frowning. “If the initial blast didn't destroy it, either the fire or the water would have. I mean, look at the house! There’s not a wall left standing.”

And that’s when Jack remembers. “Jesus Christ,” he whispers. 

And then he starts running.

* * *

The back of the house’s gone, the porch broken and collapsed, it’s all rubble, smoking, hot rubble. There’s no way Jack can get inside from back here. And so he circles the house again, slipping and sliding on the wet ground, pushing past the firemen who try to keep him out of the still glowing hot ruin. But he won’t be stopped.

“Jack, what…?” Bozer jogs after him, following him inside despite the firemen’s loud protests. In the background, Matty orders them to let her people in, and her tone of voice leaves no room for argument.

Jack’s carefully stepping over broken beams, blackened and wet, giving off terrible heat. He’s very aware of the risk he’s taking but he needs to get in because he suspects he knows what happened here, where to look, but it would take too long to explain it. Bozer and two of the firemen follow him in as he heads to the back, to where Mac’s bedroom used to be, and there…

“Help me with this,” Jack demands as he starts pushing the broken pieces of wood aside, feeling them burn his hands, but he doesn’t care. The pain’s just a vague sensation taking backseat to his urgency. “Clear this space here!”

“What–?” Bozer asks, confused.

“Just do it!” Jack snaps.

There must be something in his voice, something that tells the others that he’s not kidding, that it’s important,  _critically important_ , because they do as he asks and soon enough, there’s a space cleared, four by four feet, and Jack digs his burned fingers into a small hole in the wooden floor, looking like something left behind by a fallen out knot, and then he pulls with all his might, straining and groaning, cursing a blue streak - and the floor moves. A  _trapdoor_. And underneath it…

One of the firemen snaps on his flashlight and points the beam down into the crawlspace. “Holy  _shit_ ,” he whispers. And then he grabs his radio, calling for help.

* * *

Jack jumps down into the hole, through Mac’s secret escape hatch, and lands in the sludge with a loud splash. The crawlspace’s not deep, barely reaching to his chest, but the floor around the hatch is supported by beams that Mac added to strengthen its integrity. The escape route’s blocked by the broken porch, but there’s enough room…

Enough room to protect Mac from the blast and the fire. He’s lying curled up on his side, bruised and bloodied, wet and dirty, unconscious and unmoving but… breathing, barely but breathing, Jack notices as he drops to his knees by his friend and rests a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Mac? Mac, come on, buddy,” Jack whispers, shaking him lightly as Bozer yells down, “Is he alive? Jack, is he?”

Then Mac groans and in the beam of the fireman’s flashlight Jack can see him furrow his brows. Mac shifts and his eyes flutter open, and then he gasps and starts coughing, hard, wheezing and grabbing at his chest, at his throat. His eyes open wide and he can’t seem to draw air into his lungs, he’s  _panicking_ …

But Jack sits him up, props him up, holds him gently but firmly, and he repeats over and over again, “Okay, it’s okay, you’re okay, slow breaths, slow, shallow breaths, come on, Mac, breathe with me, come on, in and out, in and out…”

And Mac’s trying, he’s gripping Jack’s hand hard, leaning against him. “ _Jack_ …” he manages to force out, and then he’s coughing again and that terrible sound is ripping at Jack’s ears, harsh and breathless, and Mac’s lips are turning blue… and  _that_ ’s making Jack want to panic, too!

Then the firemen are there and the EMTs, too, and Mac’s taken out of Jack’s arms, his hand slips from Jack’s, but Jack scrambles after him, not letting Mac out of his sight, not allowing them to separate him from the kid. He’s his bodyguard, after all. His overwatch. His partner. And his friend.

* * *

“So, what the hell happened?” Jack asks hours later, when they’re both scrubbed clean and dressed in fresh clothes and their wounds are taken care of - it turns out that Jack  _really_ messed up his hands. Funny, he didn’t even realize it.

Mac turns his head on the pillow and looks at Jack who’s sitting in the chair next to his hospital bed, picking at his bandages. He pulls down his oxygen mask for a moment and croaks out, “Bomb… activated when… I closed the… front door. There was a… timer. Had all of… ten seconds… to do something. Remembered my escape hatch. Jumped in.”

“And a big boom followed?” Jack finishes for him when Mac’s starts choking a little and has to put his mask back on. “Yeah, well. Aren’t you glad your  _secret_ escape hatch wasn’t so  _secret_ after all? Imagine if no one knew about it. You could’ve been stuck there for who knows how long. Next time, you genius? No secret escape hatches kept secret from me - from the  _get-go_ , understood?”

Mac grimaces. “No house, no… secret hatch.”

But Jack shakes his head. “Houses can be rebuild. Cars restored. The most important thing is that you’re alive kid,” he whispers and rests one bandaged hand on Mac’s knee. “But before we start rebuilding, we find out who did this.”

Taking a deep breath, Mac pulls his mask down again and after a short bout of coughing, he says, “I’ll have to look at… the fragments of the bomb and–” He coughs again.

“Mask on,” Jack orders, glaring. “And you won’t be doing anything for the next few days. Matty called in Charlie. He hopped on the first flight to LA and Riley and Bozer are now helping him comb through the house. If there’s any clue to be found, Charlie  _will_ find it. Even if it’s the Ghost again,” he adds quickly when Mac opens his mouth to say something. “Charlie’s the next best expert on  _that_ lunatic. Leave it to him. You, breathe. Just… just  _breathe_ , alright?” His voice turns soft at the end.

Mac stares at him for a moment, then his mutinous expression softens and he whispers, “Alright.”

Jack nods, the tension in his shoulders finally easing a little. “Alright. But your new house? Fort Knox, kid! Fort. Knox. Or a medieval castle. With a moat. And bears. Because my heart? Can’t take any more surprises like today’s. I’m just way too old for this crap…”


End file.
